This Is A Social Scene Anyway
by clovermccracken
Summary: The World Academy. A strange boarding school in America that only allows one person from each country into a grade. And this is the lives of said people. Written in third person but is focused around a few different people.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **This chapter is special and therefor will be having two author's notes (for Author's Note the sequel please finish the story) I would like to formally introduce myself to this site, my name is Clover. This is the first time I've ever posted on this site, and really the first Hetalia thing I've ever written. Oh and I would like to be clear, they are **not **countries, merely high school students. Oh (again) and no shit, I don't own Hetalia.

"FELICIANO YOU BASTARD!" Lovino screamed with the paper still in his hand. He heard his brother run into the kitchen. Lovino sat at the table with the ripped envelope on the table and his hands a soon to be torn up acceptance letter. "What did you do?"

"What do you mean?" The younger one asked, looking at his brother's furious face. He wanted to run out of the room when his eyes saw the envelope.

"What the fuck is the World Academy? And why are we both accepted into it?"

"It's the school Feliks goes to..." Felipe began.

"Not us," The older one said, slamming his hands on the table.

"Si! We've been accepted into it! Please let me finish!" Lovino wanted to hear no more, but remained quiet. "Grazi, now I was talking to Feliks and he was telling me how his school had no Italians..."

"Why would his school have Italians? You're still not telling me what this is," Lovino cut it.

"Fine, let me start from the beginning. The World Academy is a school that has kids from every different country, it's very difficult to get in. They only let in one student from each country in a grade, and Feliks said they were no Italians at all so I figured I would enroll us,"

"And you did so without asking me first?" Lovino was not convinced. Of course only Americans would be so dumb to try and get people from every country to come together and start World War III.

"I didn't know we'd get accepted! I was going to tell you if we got in," Felipe defended. Lovino rolled his eyes, picking up the envelope which contained a brochure trying to make the school look wonderful. He couldn't help but to roll his eyes again.

"Does our grandfather know of this?" He asked his brother, already knowing the answer.

"Si, he helped me apply, he likes the idea of it," Felipe told him, "please consider it, Fratello. I wouldn't want to go without you."

"How did they accept me anyway? I have horrible grades,"

"Well... they saw nonno's income..."

"Of course the bastard bribed him, I don't want to transfer though! I like my school now," Of course he was lying, he hated his school and hoped every day he could get out of it. But he realized in his middle of the night prayers he meant school in general, Lovino saw no purpose in it at all.

"Please Lovino! I want to go to America, and if you hate it that bad we will come home." Felipe was practically begging at this point. Lovino knew there was no point in arguing. The bastard guardian of his would side with him anyway and force him to go.

"Fine, whatever Felipe," he replied putting his head on the table.

"Yay! I'm going to call Feliks!" Felipe said, running out of the room.

They had never been on a plane before, but Lovino hated it. It was crowded and awkwardly quiet, plus he felt like the stereotypical flight hater because of the child behind him kicking his seat. He looked over at his brother, who was so excited to be on a plane had fallen asleep immediately when they took off. The elder brother tried to sleep, but the seat was stiff and almost impossible to situate himself in. He spent the last four hours counting the people who complained about their ears popping.

"Can you not sleep?" He brother asked him, eyes half open.

"No, I hate this plane," Lovino told him, cracking his knuckles for the ninth time that hour.

"We'll be there soon, why don't you try to sleep?"

"Soon if you mean another three hours," he mumbled. The Italian man wanted to sleep, he had tried damn near forty times, and although he wouldn't admit it, he was somewhat excited about traveling to the school. Felipe shrugged his shoulders and fell back asleep. Lovino closed his eyes again and didn't open them until they landed.

The two took a car from the airport to the Academy. It was located somewhere in New York, but New York City, which is the only place geographically they knew of about America. The time change and lack of sleep on the plane made both of them tired, making the car ride short because of them falling in and out of sleep. It was night time there, and all Lovino wanted to do when he got there was fall asleep. When they arrived he had expected for him and his brother to be escorted to the same room, instead he was handed a paper with a room number labled 211, while his brother's was 208.

"What the fuck is this?" He whispered to Felipe while the residence women continued on with her paper work.

"They're putting us with people geographically close," Felipe responded. He was practically bouncing up and down with excitement.

"What's fucking geographically closer than Italy!" The woman had tuned in by that point, noticing Lovino's angered face.

"I"m sorry but we do it to make everything more culturally diverse," Lovino rolled his eyes. He looked down at the paper again, seeing the name of his roommate, Herkules Karpusi, from Greece. He wanted to drive the car all the way back to the airport.

"Where's your roommate from fratello?" his brother asked him, eyes wide with a stupid grin on his face.

"Greece,"

"Oh, mine's from Germany,"

"Don't let him touch you," Lovino told him, suddenly worried for his brother. At that point a brown haired man with green eyes and a stupid smile came up to the two Italians.

"Hello, my name is Antonio I was going to help show you to the rooms," his accent was Hispanic. Lovino guessed from his pale skin he was from Spain rather than Latin America. He realized he couldn't stop looking at the man.

"I'm Felipe and this is my brother Lovino," his younger sibling said, snapping Lovino out of staring.

"We can find them ourselves," he told him, turning to walk away.

"Oh but don't you want help carrying your stuff?" before Lovino could rudely decline Felipe replied for them.

"That'd be great!" he said smiling. The Spanish man escorted the two to the elevator, Lovino was behind him, staring at his butt the entire time.

Toris walked down the hall alone to his new room. He wasn't used to the heat and was sweating in his coat. It had seemed from his traveling that he had the farthest room from anything in the school. It felt like he had been walking for half an hour just to find room 413. He wondered if his new roommate had arrived to the school already, or if he had been anything like his last roommate. Toris wouldn't have minded a roommate like Feliks, he wouldn't have to get used to a new personality, and he sometimes liked hearing all the gossip of the school. The information of his room included where his new roommate was from, Russia. Toris was indifferent about the country, he'd never been there but he knew a bit of Russian.

Finally he entered the room, still unsure on whether or not the room was even really attatched to the school. The lights were on and a husky man with blond hair was sitting on the bed, reading a book. He looked up and smiled.

"Hello," he greeted Toris, his accent was this, as expected. Toris didn't think he was going to be anything like Feliks. He looked much more secluded, something the Lithuanian could relate to. The brunette smiled back.

"Hi, I'm Toris," he said, standing in front of the doorway.

"I'm Ivan, I haven't seen you here before, did you go here last year?" Toris nodded while he put his luggage on his bed.

"I haven't seen you before either, but my roommate last year was Feliks," the smaller man told him while beginning to unpack.

"Oh I know him," he said smiling. "So you come from Lithuania?"

"Yes, and you're Russian, right?" Toris asked, the man nodded.

"I'm still trying to get used to the heat here," Ivan chuckled.

"Me, too haha, I don't have a lot of summer clothes,"

"Neither do I, but it gets cold here in winter so that's good," Toris liked his voice, it was deep and his accent was thick but easy to understand despite the man's somewhat broken English. He put most of his clothes into the drawers at the front of the room and sat on the bed. The Russian had bent down over the bed, grabbing something from the opposite side. He pulled up to a vodka bottle.

"Want a drink?" Toris declined.

"I don't drink," The Russian shrugged, going back to the place where he retrieved the bottle to get a shot glass. While the Lithuanian was watching the man gulp down the pure alcohol with no chaser, there was a knock on the door. Thankful for the interruption, Toris practically ran to the door. Feliks stood outside wearing a pink sweater and what was probably designer jeans. The smile on his face went from ear to ear and he grabbed Toris into a hug.

"I MISSED YOU!" The Polish man squealed into his friend's ear.

"How did you find my room?" the Lithuanian asked, pulling them apart.

"You doubt me not to know everyone's room by now?" He asked, Toris laughed, realizing how much he missed his somewhat intrusive friend. "Anyway, huge party in Francis' dorm and you're invited!" Feliks grabbed Toris by the hand pulling him down the hall.

"You're going out?" Ivan asked from inside the room, Toris didn't know what to say, so as usual Feliks talked for him.

"He's going to a party in Francis' dorm, you can come by the way... Ivan," Feliks eyed the Russian up and down, giving a look Toris had never seen before. He couldn't analyze it further however, because Ivan declined.

"I'm fine, thank you though Feliks," his voice held a different tone than when the two were getting aquainted earlier. Feliks seemed to jump back suddenly and grabbed Toris' hand dragging him down the hall.

**AN(the sequel):** Thank you for reading thus far. I've seen a few of these themed storries on this site in the brief week I've been on and it inspired me to actually write one of my own. So thanks to all of the authors who have inspired me. Review, if you so choose. And thanks a ton for reading. I will update as frequently as I feel the need.


	2. Chapter 2

Felipe entered his room to find his roommate was already there. A blond man with sideburns he wanted to pet. He looked much bigger than Felipe, and also much stronger. He sat the small desk the room provided, looking concentrated on whatever he was writing. Felipe sat his luggage on his bed, causing the man to look up.

"Hello, I'm West," the German spoke, getting up from the desk to shake Felipe's hand. The Italian didn't know what to think of the man in front of him as he held his firm grip. He was attractive, but slightly intimidating. He looked like the type of man Felipe did not want to piss off.

"My name is Felicano, but I go by Felipe," he finally replied, still shaking the man's hand, "you real name is West?"

"No, but my brother's called me that all my life,"

"Why?"

"I was born in West Germany while he was born in the East. And he couldn't pronounce my real name anyway," The German man walked back to the desk and continued writing.

"What is your real name?" Felipe stood directly behind him, feeling the man stiffen from his presence.

"Not telling, it's embarrassing," Felipe left it at that, actually finding himself at a loss for words around the man in front of him. He knew it was because he found him so attractive, but had no intent on ruining any friendship that might become of him and the blond.

"Does your brother go here?" The Italian asked, finding it a nice topic to settle on.

"He does, he's a senior... again," West said rolling his eyes.

"My brother's a Junior," Felipe informed him, West said nothing, "what are you writing?" The auburn haired man wanted to continue to converse with this man, even if he did come off annoying.

"My schedule for tomorrow," West told him, his tone sounded bored. The Italian man had no reply so moved to his bed to pack up his things. He heard a knock at the door.

"Felipe!" He could hear Feliks shout from the door. The Italian rushed to answer it.

"Feliks!" Felipe screamed hugging his friend.

"Party at Francis' dorm!" He told him. Next to him he could see a brunette man standing awkwardly and as close to Feliks as possible. The Polish man noticed Felipe's staring. "This is Toris, he's my best friend, Toris this is Felipe, also my best friend," he introduced the two.

"Hello," Felipe said smiling a the man.

"Nice to meet you," The Italian couldn't recognize his accent.

"Where are you from?"

"Lithuania, are you Italian?"

"Si, and I know someone from Lithuania!" Felipe said excitedly as Feliks grabbed both of them by the hand.

"Guys, we're missing the party," Feliks whined as he pulled them down the hall.

On their walk to Francis', Feliks told the two the "important people" rooms that they passed. The two of them really couldn't pay much attention, because the man was speaking so quickly as they passed from room to room.

"That's Gilbert's room, and he's sharing with Roderich this year. Last year he managed to fuck Roderich and his girlfriend without either of them knowing, oh and here's Lars' room.." He continued rambling all the way down to the first floor, where Felipe could hear loud music being played from one of the rooms. Feliks didn't knock, he just opened the door and the music became louder. Felipe and Toris followed the Polish man, and realized that the room was much bigger than either of their rooms. It could easily fit the crowd of at least twenty people there, and included enough room for a couch and a small kitchen. It reminded Felipe of a hotel suite.

Feliks was across the room by then talking to a blond man while pouring himself a drink. Toris had sat on the couch by this point, looking uncomfortable. Felipe was not shy, and decided to go up to Feliks and the blond man.

"This is Francis," Feliks said, the man smiled.

"You are adorable," he told Felipe, his voice sounding slightly slurred and very French, "care for some wine?" he asked, pouring a glass for the two of them.

"Thank you," Felipe said sipping the glass.

"So anyway Feliks, my roommate is Arthur this year that awful British guy who destroyed that American's car last year!"

"Seriously? Is he here?"

"No he hasn't arrived yet to the room yet but I'm worried he'll fuck up my car!" The door opened again, Felipe turning to see Antonio, the man who led him to his room along with his brother.

"Lovino!" The younger Italian yelled. His brother looked at him and practically ran towards him.

"Feliciano get me out of here!" He grabbed him by the arm, leading them to the kitchen area which seemed to be the most private place of the room. "Everyone here is crazy," he told him, trying to talk quietly over the loud music.

"We haven't even been here an hour!" Felipe exclaimed, trying to calm his brother down.

"This Antonio guy is a creep, he's not a student here he's the damn guidance counselor. And when I got to my room my damn roommate was asleep so he said I should go to a party with him. Now I think he's trying to fuck me,"

"I thought you wanted to sleep," Felipe stated, confused by his brother's anger.

"Not when there's a guy I don't know asleep next to me!" Felipe laughed.

"Calm down, let's just have fun. It's a party! Here, have some wine," The younger brother ran to Francis to have him pour Lovino a glass. The older Italian reluctantly followed.

"What the fuck is this?" The entire room had turned toward the door. The man's bushy eyebrows could be seen from where Felipe was standing and his enraged face was even more clear. "What the hell are all you people doing in my room?" The man asked, eying all the faces of the room, trying to find which person he was supposed to share it with.

"Bonjour," France said his voice quiet. Someone had turned off the music.

"You bloody frog," the man at the door cried, "I just get here and of course a Frenchmen has to ruin the first night!" The man, Felipe presumed to be Arthur moved to where France was standing, the Italian could see the fury on the man's face as he got closer.

"It's just a back to school party, not a big deal," Francis said, trying to defend himself.

"Not a big deal! The fucking guidance counselor his here!" The man screamed in his face.

"I told you," Lovino whispered in his brother's ear.

"Lighten up, I got you some ale," Francis said, Felipe had a feeling Francis had this all planned out. The Englishman stopped, the tension in his face fell.

"Where is it?" He asked Francis, his voice still sounded angry. Francis went into the refrigerator, pulling out the ale. The Englishman's face lit up completely as he grabbed the bottle from his hand, took his stuff and ran away into his room.

The party remained with around the same amount of people for the rest of the night. Feliks ended up getting chased out because he had stolen a man's pot, and Francis had gotten so drunk he was naked by midnight. Felipe sat on the couch enjoying his cup of wine, losing track on what number he was. He looked around, he saw his brother and the guidance counselor speaking, Lovino had a look of hate on his face but the closeness of them made him wonder how his brother truly felt. The Italian didn't know if it was the alcohol in his system or the smell of smoke that filled the room, but he figured he was going to enjoy this school, especially when thinking of his roommate.

**AN: **I know Francis' room being huge makes no sense, but soon it will. I just didn't know how to explain it in this chapter. But if I don't in the next, I'll just tell it in an author's note. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, cause honestly I had fun writing it. Also, I got a review on the first chapter on Italy's real name. I wanted to say in the brief time I've been on this site, I've also never seen anyone call him Felipe. However, it's short for Feliciano and I was just told his name could go by that. So, I am sorry if that's confusing but I'm not going to change it haha. Sorry for the long note.


	3. Chapter 3

Lovino walked down the hall, not wanting to go to his dorm. He had spent two weeks in the academy and had already hated it. He had only spoken to his roommate once, and all he had told him was that he had to sneak in cats into their dorm. The only chance he had to speak with his brother was when he wasn't eye fucking his German roommate, and the person he unfortunately had to talk to the most was the guidance counselor. Antonio wished to see him the first week of school because he had seen his grades at his old one, and decided that Lovino needed help.

The Italian gave up and went into his room. Herkules' wasn't there and Lovino realized he had nothing to do. He never did homework and hated pretty much everyone he had met, it was just like his old school. Lovino laid on the bed thinking of Antonio. It pissed him off how often the annoying Spanish man crept into his thoughts. It would be at the most random times; at lunch or in class, and it would always be thinking about how attractive the man was. He wanted it to stop. He got off the bed and ran into the man's office.

"Bastard," Lovino said as he walked in, slamming the door behind him.

Antonio looked up, the look on his face made Lovino think he had downs syndrome. He had a dumb smile on his face as if he hadn't heard the man at all.

"Lovino, nice to see you," The Spanish man replied, keeping his stupid smile.

"No, I fucking hate you, stop smiling like that,"

"What's wrong tomate?" Lovino hated that stupid nickname. Antonio had been calling him that since he his first "session" with him as the guidance counselor. He said he looked like a tomato because when he got mad his cheeks got red. It just pissed the Italian off even more, flushing his face.

"Just get out of my fucking head you bastard," Lovino told him. Antonio's face finally fell, replacing his dumb smile was a look of utter confusion.

"What are you talking about?" Lovino didn't know how to explain. He didn't want to tell him that man flooded his thoughts, that he thought his eyes were the best looking thing in the world, or that he frequently imagined him with no clothes on.

"Nothing, just leave me alone," he finally said, turning to walk out.

"Lovino, you came here, just tell me what's bothering you," His words were kind, making the man angrier.

"I told you, just get out of my head,"

"What does that even mean?" Lovino turned back around, Antonio had gotten up, and was face to face with the Italian man. Lovino couldn't help but realize he smelled wonderful.

"I can't stop thinking about you!" The Italian finally blurted out, "your stupid face won't get out of my head, bastard and I want it to stop," He was in the man's face now. Antonio was taller than him, but he could still yell at him at eye level. The Spaniard just smiled again, that stupid smile that made Lovino wanted to punch him.

"I don't think it's my fault you keep thinking about me Lovino. I think you just like me," The face he had while saying that was something Lovino had never seen before. It was darker, and hotter. The tone of his voice was deeper than his normal voice, and it pulled the Italian in. Lovino knew exactly what the other man was doing; seeing how far he could go. He was making suggestions to see Lovino's response, and as much as he hated himself for allowing it, he didn't have another choice.

Lovino pressed his lips against Antonio's while Antonio wrapped his arms around Lovino.

Their kiss was rough, and Lovino knew it was because of him. It made him angry, the fact that they were kissing, the fact that he wanted to kiss him. He bit Antonio's lip, hard. The Spanish man gave no sense of discomfort as Lovino carried on. He ran his hands down Lovino's back, encouraging him. Although Lovino had control of their mouths, Antonio controlled their bodies. He pushed the Italian onto his desk, and kept running his hands down him. He went to Lovino's waistline, lighting touching the skin under his pants. The contact made Lovino come to, realizing what an idiot he was and pushed the Spanish man off of him.

"Bastard!" Lovino screamed after he broke free.

"You kissed me!" Antonio retreated, looking hurt. Lovino took notice to the confusion in the man's eyes, but made no point to soften his words.

"You fucking pedophile! You're sick!" Antonio's looked down, not arguing with the enraged Italian. As much as Lovino hated to admit it, he did care that he was hurting the other man. He didn't say anything to him though, he just gave him one more look as he walked out the door.

"Why don't you ever drink with me?" Ivan asked his roommate, laying on his bed, eyes staring right at Toris. The Lithuanian had grown comfortable to his roommate's gaze. His eyes were purple, which Toris found extremely intriguing, and he never stared at him to make the man feel awkward, he could tell that was just how he was.

"I told you, I don't like drinking," he said for probably the fifth time that week. Ivan sat up, grabbing the vodka from the night stand and two shot glasses. He poured them both to the tip, handing one to Toris.

"At least one shot, da?" He asked, eyes on him again. The Russian's stare was different this time, it was persuasive, but cheerful. Toris had no idea how to decline. He just stared at the glass in his roommate's hand.

In the two weeks Toris had known Ivan, he knew that he drank a lot. However, the drinking never seemed to affect how he acted. The Russian seemed the same both sober and intoxicated, but the main difference Toris did see in the man was he was much more controlling when he had been drinking.

"Ivan, I'm sorry, but I don't want any," Toris didn't know what was different about that night. After he told him no, Ivan glared. His purple eyes growing darker, his gaze seemed to go straight through Toris. The smaller man shivered.

"More for me then," Ivan finally said, his stare still dark but his voice the same happy tone. He took the two drinks and laid back down. Toris was at a complete loss of words. He didn't know whether to apologize or to just stop talking all together. Ivan sat back up, causing Toris to jump back. The Russian man stayed sitting, staring at the man across the room.

"Are you okay?" Toris asked, the look on Ivan's face was the same look he had just given him. The Russian leaned towards Toris, grabbing him by the hair. He moved the smaller man's face closer to his. Toris could smell the alcohol from his breath.

"Next time I tell you to do something, you do it," his voice was low and his tone was dark. Toris stayed there, face barely touching Ivan's in complete shock. He waited for Ivan to move, flinch or something. The two stayed there like that, until Ivan finally released him, throwing Toris onto his bed. The Russian went back to his own bed. He laid down, his back facing the brunettes and after a moment it seemed as if he were asleep. Toris got up when he sure the man was asleep and practically ran out the door.

He didn't know where to go. He wound up outside of the school, not even realizing he had walked down four flights of stairs. The man kept walking, eventually landing himself outside of the school. It was fairly late, around midnight, but Toris could still see a few students out smoking. He noticed one was Feliks. The Polish man saw him walk out and ran towards him.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked, sitting down on the steps with the Lithuanian.

"I just wanted to go for a walk," he lied. Toris didn't want to talk about what happened with Ivan moments before.

"Makes sense, our rooms suck. The fourth floor always does,"

"I didn't know you smoked?" Toris asked him, but seeing Feliks had no cigarette in his hand.

"I don't, but Francis does and he's drunk as fuck. He wanted me outside with him," Feliks laughed. Toris didn't want to think about alochol.

"Oh, makes sense," he stood up, not knowing what to do with himself, "well I guess I'll leave you alone," he began to walk straight.

"No, don't go! We haven't talked at all this year!" Feliks whined, pulling his hand to sit him back down. Toris did with no restraint, he was still somewhat in shock.

"Feliks are you drunk?"

"Maybe a little," he admitted, "it's not my fault Francis throws a fucking party like every other day," they looked over at Francis, who was a few feet away. The man looked perfectly content with a wine glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Toris wondered if he had eve knew Feliks had left him.

"I guess I should just go back upstairs," Toris said, trying to stand up again. But like the first time, Feliks grabbed him to sit him back down.

"You don't wanna be up there with Ivan," he told him. Toris couldn't agree more.

"He's asleep now anyway," he defended, wanting to leave.

"Then you're lucky," Feliks said, but it sounded mostly to himself.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," he replied, face bouncing back, "come over and have a drink with us," he grabbed Toris by the arm pulling him towards Francis.

"I need to back upstairs," Toris said, shaking as he pulled Feliks off of him, nearly running inside the building, still having no idea what to do.

**AN: **wow, I hate that these chapters are so short. I need to make them longer. Anyway, I kinda wrote a majority of this slightly intoxicated. And I'm kind of rather intoxicated now, so I'm sorry for the amount of alcohol mentioned. And I probably would have finished this sooner had a freak storm not came in Saturday and killed 80,000 people's power. BUT, it's here and review it if you so choose. And I know I didn't explain the room situations, I'm too drunk to do it right now. So whatever. I will get to it eventually. Enjoy.


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